


Let Go (I've Got You)

by raiining



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Rape Fantasy, Unprotected Sex by Previous Consent, explicit story involving rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has been nursing a secret fantasy since his circus days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Go (I've Got You)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [How To Succeed In Sex Slavery Without Really Trying](https://archiveofourown.org/works/330101) by [astolat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astolat/pseuds/astolat). 



> I decided I needed more practice writing sex, and so I wrote ... lots of sex. I have an OT7 in the works (a very big first for me), but last week this plot bunny jumped up and bit me in the ass.
> 
> Inspired by Astolat's fabulous "How to Succeed In Sex Slavery Without Really Trying", which I was re-reading because: YUM. 
> 
> ("inspired" in the original sense - this is in no way connected to that fabulous work, in any regard, it just spawned the plot bunny. Only there is no plot, so it spawed the PWP bunny. This is a very dangerous bunny.)
> 
>  
> 
> Edited by the fabulous Ralkana, who deserved a break from my butchering of Jane Austen. Thank you!!

Clint swam slowly back to consciousness. 

The sheets against his naked body were soft and smelled familiar. There was light pressing against his closed eyelids, but it was dull and distant. Everything felt distant, actually, like he was drunk or -

Or drugged.

Clint's eyes flew open and he tried to turn over. Nothing happened. Clint blinked and his vision swam into focus. He was lying on his stomach, his head resting on his arms. His nose almost touched the fabric of his sheets, but his arms were holding up the weight of his head. He tried to lift his head up off the bed but nothing happened. He couldn't move. 

The surge of adrenalin drove the distant feeling away, and Clint was just working himself into a good panic when a familiar hand touched his back.

“Shhhh,” Phil said soothingly. 

Clint took a deep breath in, then let it slowly out. There was no blue in his vision, it was okay. Phil was here.

“Whhaa?” Clint said, then licked his dry lips and tried again. “What's - ?”

Phil's hand stroked up and down his naked back, the motion both repetitive and soothing. Clint wanted to arch into the touch, but he still couldn't move. “What's going on?” he asked.

Instead of answering, Phil's touch went away. There was a soft, muted _click_ , like that of a cap being opened, and then Clint could hear Phil rubbing his hands together. A moment later both hands were back, touching Clint's skin, and this time they were warm with massage oil.

“Mmmmm....” Clint said, as Phil began to knead at his shoulder blades. It felt good, but he still couldn't move. “Phil, what -?”

Then it hit him.

“Oh my god,” Clint breathed, arousal blooming in his belly. He remembered having wine with dinner, and the secretive glint in Phil's eye. His heart was pounding. “Phil, are you serious?”

“Mmm,” Phil hummed in agreement from somewhere behind him. Clint couldn't see his handler, but he knew from the tone of his voice that Phil was smiling. “R&D finished reversing the formula last week. It's been in testing for the past five days, and finally cleared.”

“Oh my god,” Clint said again, his heart pounding. “And the antidote?”

“On the side table,” Phil said. Clint tried to raise his head again but couldn't. He knew where the side table was though, two feet away and easily within reaching distance. They were in their room at Stark Tower, the most secure environment Clint could think of, but it felt good to know that if anything happened the antidote was close by. 

“It takes thirty seconds to reverse the effect,” Phil told him. “The drug itself grants sixty to seventy minutes of complete paralysis of the sympathetic nervous system, excluding the cranial nerves.” His hands never stopped their ministrations during his explanation, kneading at the muscles of Clint's back. “Give the word, and I'll inject the antidote.”

“God, no,” Clint breathed, “Not unless we absolutely have to. Fuck, Phil, I didn't think you remembered.”

Phil's hands lifted again and returned, once more dripping with oil. “When my boyfriend tells me his secret fantasies, I tend to pay attention,” he said with a smile in his voice.

Clint would normally shrug and shift away from something that came perilously close to talking about his feelings, but he couldn't do either now. That shouldn't have been as hot as it was. 

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, “but ...”

But it had been kind of embarrassing, since Clint hadn't really _meant_ to tell Phil any of that stuff. It was just a stupid kink, the kind he'd had forever and had never been able to indulge in.

It had been late at night when they’d talked about it, during one of the nights Clint couldn't fall asleep. Memories of what he did under Loki's control, of how he’d _felt_ under Loki's control, had been haunting him. Phil hadn't said anything, just made them hot chocolate in their shared kitchen and sat with him at the counter. They had been drinking in silence for several minutes before it all kind of came out. How Clint hated how good it had felt, to give up control like that. How he worried that he hadn't fought back hard enough because he’d _wanted_ to give up control.

Phil hadn't said anything, had just kept drinking his hot chocolate, and Clint had found himself telling Phil about the way he liked to do things like that, sometimes. How he liked to give up control. It wasn't a kink he'd had much experience with, because he'd never found someone he could trust enough to play around with it before, but he'd thought about it with Phil. They hadn't been together long before New Mexico, and Clint hadn't found a way to tell him. It hadn't been that important, just something he liked to do. But then Loki had come along, and Clint felt like the god had tainted it, somehow. 

And then Clint had found himself telling Phil about the dirtiest fantasy he had, the one he'd been thinking about on and off for _years_. It had started in the circus, when Clint used to hang around with the crew after hours. They hadn't had TV in the circus, so a lot of the regulars would build a fire late at night and sit around to tell stories. Some were funny, a few were scary, and once in a while they were downright pornographic. There had been this one, the Strong Man had told it, and it had been some kind of urban legend.

There was this Asian massage parlor, the Strong Man said, where they'd serve you tea before your massage. Sometimes – not every time, mind you, but sometimes – a man would go to this place and he'd drink the tea. Then he'd lay down for his massage and suddenly, he couldn't move. He could still see and hear and feel things, but he couldn't _do_ anything about it. So then, while he's laying there paralyzed, this massage person would come in. The guy would be expecting one of the cute little Asian girls he'd seen at the front, but no – it would be this huge man and he'd be totally naked. So the customer is lying there, and he can't move, and suddenly this huge guy starts to give him a massage.

At first it's a fantastic massage. The guy is paralyzed so all his muscles are relaxed and it’s the best thing ever. But then, just when he starts to get comfortable and maybe fall asleep a little, the massage guy's hands start to dip towards his ass. The customer wants to do something about it but he can't, he can only lie there. The massage guy pours oil onto his hands and starts to work the guy open, and then after he can get three fingers inside of him, the massage guy just starts to fuck him. Like really give it to him, really fuck him hard, and the guy wants to scream but he can't. The massage guy fucks him and fucks him and then he comes in the customer's ass. The customer, he can't do anything about it. So the massage guy leaves and the customer just lies there on the table until he can stand again. It takes a while and when he does, come rolls out his ass, but he stands and puts on his clothes. When he leaves, the cute Asian girl just gives him this smile and charges his credit card, and the customer wants to say something, but what? He's embarrassed, and he just wants to get out of there. So he leaves, and he never says anything, and so the massage parlor just keeps on doing it. Not all the time, but sometimes, when the guy coming in is hot enough.

The Strong Man had paused, dramatically, and the crew had shivered or laughed. But Clint hadn't been able to move without giving away how turned on he was. He'd stayed out by the fire all night, until long after everyone else had gone to bed, and it had been his number one fantasy ever since.

“Have you ever gone to a massage parlor?” Phil had asked, after Clint had finished. His voice had been light and teasing, like Clint hadn't just confessed that his deepest fantasy was basically to get raped. 

“No,” Clint had said, shaking his head and laughing a little because, fuck – what else was he going to do? “Never could decide if I'd like to have a massage after hearing that, or if I'd be scarred for life.” He’d shifted at the counter, “It was just an urban legend.”

Phil had shrugged and they had finished their hot chocolate. They’d gone back to bed and Phil had rubbed Clint's back until they both fell asleep. That had been several weeks ago, and Phil hadn't said anything about it since. He hadn't treated Clint any differently, either, which Clint appreciated.

Then last week Agent Mendez had been captured by HYDRA and held for 18 hours until he could be rescued. During his debrief, he had described being forced to drink a substance that rendered him unconscious. When he awoke, he had been fully aware of his surroundings and able to speak and feel, but unable to move. The effect had lasted almost an hour. The HYDRA scientists who had drugged him hadn't done anything but some basic torture during that time, and Mendez had been rescued shortly afterwards.

Clint hadn't squirmed during the debriefing, but it had been a near thing. He'd been on the extraction team, and he was glad he hadn't known what was going on inside the HYDRA compound or he might have said something embarrassing. As it was, he’d avoided Phil's eyes and hightailed it to the bathroom to jerk off. He’d _wanted_ so badly, and yet he was glad it had been Mendez who had been captured and not him. He didn't want to destroy his first fantasy with rude reality, and waking up in a HYDRA lab would have ruined it completely. 

But that had been if HYDRA had been the one who paralyzed him. This was Phil. 

“I trust you,” Clint said to Phil now, lying on their bed unable to move, while Phil rubbed massage oil into his shoulders. “That's what makes this so hot.”

“Mmm,” Phil hummed, and sank his fingers deeper into Clint's back. Clint groaned. It felt so good. His back was nearly always in pain, the muscles tight and locked. He tried to stretch them out, but so much of what he did every day was physical, and he had gotten used to the persistent ache of tension along his spine. To have that completely gone was nearly a drug in and of itself, and adding Phil's fingers to the mix was heavenly.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he said, words slurring slightly as the pleasure-sensors of his brain overloaded. 

“Relax,” Phil said, as if Clint could do anything else, paralyzed as he was. “Let me take care of you.”

“Okay,” Clint said, and let himself get lost in the sensation. Phil kneaded at his shoulders, then ran his nails lightly down Clint's spine. He scratched and massaged along the hard ridge of Clint's back, working the muscles that tended to tense and ache by the end of the day. Phil massaged his ribs, thumbs digging in deep, and then spent some quality time on his lower back.

It felt fantastic. Phil wasn't a professional, but he had spent enough time with Clint's body – on the job and off of it – to know every one of Clint's sore spots. He hit them all.

Just when Clint was a pool of blissful sensation, Phil's hands left for a moment and came back with fresh oil. Clint wanted to tense in anticipation, but he couldn't. He was still completely paralyzed and fuck, that was _so_ hot. He couldn't do anything but wait for whatever Phil wanted to do to him.

He could feel the pulse of arousal, buried but not dampened by the massage, bloom again. His cock started to throb and fill. From behind him, Phil chuckled. His hands came down on Clint's lower back again, and swept down towards his ass. 

Phil kneaded and massaged him there, working his cheeks individually and then together. He pulled them apart, trailed his fingers over Clint's hole, then pushed his cheeks together again. Clint wanted to grind his ass into Phil's hands, but he couldn't, so he panted into his arms and _wanted_ so badly it hurt.

“Phiiiillll,” he grated, when Phil's hands went away again. Phil shushed him with a swipe of fingertips against his lower back, and then his hands went to Clint's ass again. He pushed at Clint's cheeks with his fingertips, and brushed Clint's hole with his thumbs. 

“God,” Clint panted as Phil pushed at him lightly. One of Phil's hands lifted away while the other turned so Phil's index finger was rubbing at his hole. Phil's other hand came back drenched in oil, and Phil carefully pushed one finger inside of him.

“Fuck,” Clint said, as the finger slid in. He was so loose from the drug and so turned on by Phil's massage. The finger went in easily, and he ached for another.

Phil had to be psychic, because he didn't pause. He just gave Clint another finger. 

They pushed deep inside of him, easy, and it was good but not enough. “Fuck, you're so loose,” Phil said, his voice thick and turned on. 

“Yeah,” Clint said, and he wanted to arch into Phil's fingers but couldn't. His dick throbbed and swelled some more. He was helpless – he couldn't do anything but take what Phil decided to give to him. “Come on, come on, give me more. Give me everything. Put your cock in me, I'm ready.”

Phil slicked a third finger and then slid it inside of him. He twisted his fingers and _pushed_ , and god, it felt so good. His fingers brushed Clint's prostate and it was like a lightning rod connected to his dick. “Fuck,” Clint moaned. 

“Am I going to have to gag you?” Phil asked, panting a little as he pulled his fingers out, twisted them, and pushed them back in again. “Because I can do that. You're going to make me come early if you keep talking like that.”

“Fuck, no,” Clint said, even though the idea of Phil gagging him made him shiver. He wanted that, but he needed to talk through this, needed to do something since he couldn't move. “Next time,” he promised instead.

“Fuck,” Phil said, with feeling, and pushed inside him again. “It's good then? You'd do it again? Let me do this to you again?”

“Oh _yes_ ,” Clint groaned, feeling Phil's fingers deep inside of him. “I'd let you do anything to me Phil, _anything_. Fuck. Only you though, Phil. Only you and no one else. I don't trust anyone but you to do this to me.”

“Only me,” Phil agreed, and his voice was nearly a growl. He pushed his fingers deeper into Clint's ass and leaned forward. Phil must be naked, too, because his bare hips came down on Clint's ass as Phil bent down and fastened his teeth on Clint's neck, just behind his ear. Phil's fingers continued to pump deep inside of him. “Only I ever get to see you like this, helpless and aching. You're so good, Clint. So good all the time. Only when you're good am I going to do this to you. Give this to you, like you want it.”

“Yeah?” Clint asked, panting, and god, _fuck_ , he had never heard Phil talk like this. “You're going to give it to me? Give me what I want?”

Phil twisted his fingers inside him, and Clint groaned. 

“What do you want, Clint? My beautiful boy? What do you want?”

“I want _you_ , Phil. I want your cock. I want it deep inside me. Please, Phil. Please please please. Please give me your cock, I want it.”

“Do you?” Phil growled, and his fingers came out and then pushed in again. “You're so loose, and you're just lying there. Do you really want it?”

“Yes, yes yes yes. I do, I do.” Clint couldn't do anything but babble, he wanted to arch and press his lips to Phil's mouth, but he couldn't do any of that. The need and the want twisted together inside of him, and he was so hard his dick was aching.

“I'm going to give it you, Clint. I'm going to give it to you and you're just going to lie there and take it. You'll take it good and deep, won't you, Clint? Because you can't do anything else.”

He couldn't, he _couldn't_. He couldn't do anything but lie there, and it should be making him panic, but he had wanted this for so long. And it was Phil, he trusted Phil. He would do anything for Phil.

Phil's fingers withdrew then, and Clint whined at the lack of them, but then there was something better pressing at his ass. It was Phil's cock and Clint's couldn't do anything but moan as it pressed into him, thick and full and oh so fucking good.

“You're so _loose_ ,” Phil groaned as he sank into Clint. He went all the way, sinking deep inside him, until his balls brushed against Clint's ass. “Oh god, you're so good. So good, Clint.”

“Yeah?” Clint asked, shaking. It was almost too much – Phil was so deep inside of him. He couldn't do anything but go with it, and that was such a _relief_. He didn't have to do anything - _couldn't_ do anything – but lie there and let Phil do what he wanted.

“Oh, yes,” Phil said. He paused deep inside of Clint's ass, and then withdrew a bit before sinking back inside of him. “So good and so loose. I could just stay in your ass forever.”

“God,” Clint moaned, because he wanted that. “We'd have to go to work sometime.”

“No,” Phil breathed. He pulled out and then pushed in again. “I'll bring you to work like this. I'll lay you over my desk and just fuck you whenever I like. You'll be so loose and ready for me, every time.”

“Yeah,” Clint said, because oh fuck yes he wanted that. He wanted to be there for Phil, all the time, wanted to be ready for him whenever he needed. 

Phil got a rhythm going then, pulling out and pushing back in. It was good, and Clint couldn't do anything but lie there as Phil's hands closed on his hips and pulled him closer. 

Clint was still achingly hard, and Phil's cock in his ass was good and solid, but the arousal inside of him was steady, comfortable. He wouldn't come just from this. But then Phil said “Here, let me just - ” and he pulled Clint's hips up and tilted him forwards. Then Phil just started _giving_ it to him, rough thrusts that pushed deep inside of him and fuck, oh fuck -

“Take it, take it, just take it, Clint,” Phil was muttering as he pounded into him. The thrusts were uneven now, the _want_ driving Phil past the point of control. It was that, as much as the pounding his prostate was taking, that finally drove Clint up and over the edge. Because Phil was just _using_ him, just taking what he wanted, and it was so good he was losing that ever present veneer of control. Anything that could drive Phil beyond control was hot, and the fact that it was _Clint_ who was doing it, who was stripping Phil down to his essentials, well – he had no hope of not coming, after that.

Clint groaned and fell over that cliff, come spilling wet and hot over the covers and against his belly. Phil grunted and his hands tightened around Clint's hips. A few hard thrusts later and then Phil was coming inside of him, balls contracting against Clint's ass as he held himself deep inside Clint as he came. 

Clint panted into his arms, body still loose and paralyzed, as Phil gave him a few last thrusts, emptying himself completely into Clint's ass. Clint felt warm and detached again, floating on his own personal high. 

Phil panted behind him, getting his breath back, and then carefully withdrew. Clint moaned as Phil slid loose, cock already softening, and Phil brushed a hand along his spine. Phil shifted and the mattress dipped as his handler levered himself off the bed. Clint lay on the bed alone, unable to do anything else, and waited. 

A moment later Phil was back. Clint could hear his footsteps approach, and then a warm washcloth was rubbing over his back. Clint sighed and closed his eyes, letting the heat of the washcloth flow through him. 

Phil carefully cleaned him, leaving several times to rinse the cloth and return with more hot water. He brushed the oil from Clint's back and gently washed around his ass, mopping up the mixed oil and come there. Then he slowly turned Clint over, supporting his head as he used the covers to manoeuvre Clint onto his back. 

Clint moaned gratefully to have fresh air on his face, and Phil leaned over to kiss him, lips soft and tender against Clint's mouth. 

Phil finished with his belly, carefully cleaning all of Clint's come and wiping down his dick, and then left the washcloth in the master bath. He came back to bed with a fresh blanket, and leaving Clint on his back, settled down beside him, draping the blanket over them both.

Clint sighed in contentment and Phil chuckled, rubbing his blunt nails over Clint's scalp. They lay like that, half-dozing, until Clint's extremities began to tingle. 

It wasn't a bad pins-and-needles sensation, not like what happened when his hand or foot fell asleep. Rather it was a gentle, persistent tickle that gradually built and then faded again. When it had faded completely, Clint found that he could move.

He started by flexing his toes, wiggling them gently, and then carefully bent his ankles and knees. It took longer for his hands to obey him, but once they did his shoulders and neck soon followed. 

It took about ten minutes, all told, for everything to wake up and function normally again. Phil glanced at his watch when it had finished.

“Seventy-five minutes,” he said, taking the antidote from where he had placed it on the side table and tucking it away in a drawer. “R&D didn't do too badly.”

“They did _great_ ,” Clint said, sighing happily and turning over. He tucked himself into Phil's shoulder and wrapped an arm around his chest.

“Yeah?” Phil asked, but it was with a smile. He bent and brushed his lips across Clint's forehead. 

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Phil, warm and solid beside him. “I can't believe you – how are you even _real_?”

Phil chuckled, and Clint pressed a kiss to his chest just because he could. “Oh believe me, Clint. I have many, _many_ more things I want to do to you.”

“Yeah?” Clint asked, arms tightening around Phil's chest. He had always worried his fantasies would be too fucked up for his straitlaced partner to handle. He should have known better.

“Yes,” Phil agreed, reaching a hand up to rub at Clint's shoulder. “But those are for later, and today was for you. We have time for the rest.”

They did. They had all the time in the world. Clint closed his eyes and felt sleep reach up to claim him. “Love you,” he said, mumbling it into Phil's shoulder. 

“Love you, too,” Phil said, and they both drifted off to sleep.


End file.
